No More Dandelions in the Meadow
by Blup
Summary: With the war finally over and the boy with the bread long gone, Katniss can finally live her life as peacefully and as happily as she could manage with Gale. However, the ashes take a while to go away and leave space for dandelions to grow, especially with Gale's fire.
1. Prologue

_**With the war finally over and the boy with the bread long gone, Katniss can finally live her life as peacefully and as happily as she could manage with Gale. However, the ashes take a while to go away and leave space for dandelions to grow, especially with Gale's fire.**_

* * *

 **Prologue**

 _"Do you want to know who else won't be there?"_

 _"No, I want to be surprised."_

* * *

After waking up from last night's rest, I remembered what Greasy Sae had told me the day before: "Spring's in the air today. You ought to get out, go hunting." I went to the kitchen just as she put my plate on the table. Over the eggs, I told her I was going to go hunting.

She replied by asking for some game. She also said that I might find something good, whatever that meant. I hadn't gone hunting in a while and I still felt quite weak. I don't know how she could expect me to bring back good game.

I brought out my bow and arrows and headed out, intending to exit Twelve through the meadow. On the way, I saw numerous carts filled with the bodies of the dead. When I reached my destination, I saw that people have begun to dig a massive pit in the middle of the meadow. A grave.

There was another thing that hadn't yet caught my attention: a patch of dirt, separated from the pit. It looked as though the soil had been dug out and replaced recently. I hadn't paid a lot of attention to it, and walked in its path towards the forest. I came crashing to the ground as I had tripped over a rock.

It wasn't just any rock. It was a gravestone. The slightly elevated rectangle of dried cement read: "Here lies Peeta Mellark, victor of the 74th Hunger Games. Talented and loved dearly, he was deceased in the Capitol, where he sacrificed his life so that the war might end."

After reading, all I could feel was shock. The boy with the bread, now gone. I could hardly believe it, though I realized that I had pretty much left him to die. I allowed him to create the diversion, never really considering in my conscious mind that he would die.

My throat tightened and my eyes kept a hard gaze. No tears were shed; all I could feel was guilt. So many times, he had saved my life, my mother's life, Prim's life. Even if the attempts were futile now, I still had yet to repay him. I thought I had lost him when he got back from the Capitol and tried choking me, but this was much more of a loss. Even underneath the Capitol's alterations, there was still the kind, pure Peeta, who decorated cakes and moved a country with his words. The one whose blue eyes held such promise of peace. In that moment, I knew I no longer had any chance of getting him back.

I stayed there for hours, knees bent and sitting on my heels. His face flashed through my mind. I could almost see him walking towards Prim and Madge and all the other people I killed.

Almost pulling me out of my trance was a barely audible voice. When I didn't answer, he started shaking me and calling my name. Finally broken out of my trance, I tried to apologize after attempting to swallow away the lump in my throat and bringing my gaze to the ground. It came out as a muffled and broken sound with my barely-moving lips and cracking voice.

He apologized after he noticed what I had been staring at. After a few moments of silence, he offered to bring me home.

We both stood, my legs numb from the kneeling, and I allowed myself to be taken away in the arms of Gale. Taken away from the grave of the boy with the bread, on which I placed the first dandelion of spring.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

 _"My name is Katniss Everdeen. Why am I not dead? I should be dead."_

* * *

I was scarred.

Mutts, children blown to bits, guns fired at random civilians… You get what I mean.

If only Prim hadn't been chosen for the Hunger Games, if only Peeta hadn't gone with me, if only I didn't pull out those berries, if only Cinna hadn't designed such a stunning outfit which gave me the name of the girl on fire, if only that guard hadn't accidentally torn out my nightlock pill from my reach after I had shot Coin. Fate is like the wind, taking you to places where you do not intend to go.

If only Peeta hadn't given me the bread. I would have been dead long before. I wouldn't have had to suffer, or let others suffer for my sake. Prim and my mother would have died as well without my help. They wouldn't have to see all the pain the war I created caused.

But fate is like the wind, never acknowledging your wants and needs. The wind is strong, but unfortunately it never snuffs out my flame.

Why wouldn't it snuff out my flame? After all I did, why would it let me live? Maybe it wanted me to suffer, suffer like everyone else did in the effort to make things better. The odds were starting to be in everyone else's favour. It never was in mine.

The wind brought me someone. Someone who I had believed would help me, bring my thoughts away from the many deaths I had caused, possibly put the odds in my favour. Gale.

* * *

"I'm really sorry, Katniss," Gale said as he opened the door to my house. I only nodded in response, though I didn't look at him again.

We walked past the kitchen, where Greasy Sae was packing up. Once she saw Gale holding me, she said warmly, "Told you that you'd find something nice today."

Once I passed without response, she asked Gale what was wrong. "The grave," he replied simply.

"I'll see you at dinner, Katniss," I heard her call before the door closed.

I walked right away to my rocking chair where the fire in the fireplace was put out. Gale took a seat on the couch on the other side of the room. After a few minutes of silence, he requested, "Talk to me, Katniss. Please."

There were a few more minutes of silence, and I heard him sigh tiredly. Noticing the bright blue ball of yarn in the basket under my chair, he asked, "Do you know how to knit?"

I shook my head a bit, not making eye contact.

"I, uh, guess it would be a nice hobby if it weren't hunting weather," he stated, obviously not meaning it.

"Maybe we can ask Greasy Sae or Mabel."

I broke my gaze with the cinders in the fireplace and looked at him oddly.

"Her granddaughter," he told me. After a long silence, he finally said in a light tone, "I've missed you, Catnip." Knowing that I wouldn't respond, he continued to speak. "I'm actually kind of glad you didn't shoot me when the Capitol soldiers took me. It was a bit painful, but Thirteen quickly took care of it. I spent a couple days being checked by the doctors, then helped to oversee the rebuilding. I was also offered a job to help Beetee with technological advances in District Two. I didn't accept, as you can see, but I'm still on standby."

He paused, and there was another silence. He cleared his throat and started talking once again. "You know, Greasy Sae and I have been planning my arrival. You never picked up your phone so you wouldn't have known I was coming. We decided to take advantage of it and give you a pleasant surprise. As you can see, it didn't really work out." He paused again.

"Uh, well, my return date was scheduled since last week. Greasy Sae said that she would try to get you outside a couple days before so there would be a larger chance that you would go outside the day I came. We planned that I would wait for you in the meadow, but there was all that digging and dirt, so we changed the meeting place. I guessed that you would want to go to the rock where both of us sat that time we were filmed. So, Greasy Sae suggested that you go hunting. You would go through the meadow and past the rock to the forest, but that one thing was unexpected. We didn't know that his grave would be separated from the others. Maybe they made the grave earlier than the others." Becoming tense from the subject, he changed the subject.

"Your mother and Dr Aurelius want you to call, or at least write," Gale told me. There was another long silence in which Buttercup decided to waltz in.

"So, would you show me around the house?" he asked after the scrawny cat growled at him. After I didn't respond, he decided to take the tour himself.

* * *

Many days had been spent like that: me sitting on my rocking chair and staring into the fireplace as Gale tried to make conversation with me. I still only left the room to have breakfast and dinner, and I never wanted to go outside again.

Sometimes, Gale gave me some privacy, which I had been grateful for, though the room felt empty without his words. Gale also didn't try to force me out of my depression, which was very nice. It was what drove me to follow after him.

One particular rain day, I had followed him all the way to the end of the hallway, right before the door, but I gritted my teeth and went back to my rocking chair, preferring safety and loneliness over Gale and haunting memories.

Although he left me alone at times, he was persistent in trying to get me to become myself again.

* * *

"Look out the window, Katniss," Gale told me. I did. The sky was a beautiful bright blue; the few flowers in the plant boxes were blooming; the green grass on my front yard was swaying to the wind. If only the ashen ground just in sight outside of the Victor's Village wasn't there.

"It's nice weather," he remarked. "Maybe we can go outside, maybe pick some flowers to put in that empty vase on the kitchen counter."

I didn't respond, though deep inside me, I longed to go outside.

"We wouldn't have to go far. Maybe just sit on the porch and enjoy the weather," he suggested.

Although it was a rather good idea, I stayed put in my rocking chair.

"Let's at last open up the windows. You need the fresh air," Gale said, standing up and holding out his hand to me.

I stood up, refusing to take his hand, and opened the closest window. Before I could sit down again, Gale blocked my way.

"Come on, that's not enough," he said, holding my arms so I wouldn't try to go around him, "the wind isn't even blowing in from that direction. We have to open up every window of the house."

I crossed my arms and glared at him.

"It's not that hard," he said, holding my hand. "Follow me."

He dragged my around the house, opening every window as slowly as possible, yet still quickly blocking my way to my rocking chair. "It would go by faster if you helped," he told me. Grudgingly, I helped him open the last window on the first floor.

"Let's go upstairs now," he said, pulling my hand towards the staircase. "Katniss, you need exercise," he told me as he dragged me up.

He opened the doors to each room and opened the windows twice as slowly as he did downstairs. I sighed, and proceeded to finish the job myself. I ended at my bedroom, where the wind entered the most. The breeze blew my unclean hair out of my face. I closed my eyes and breathed in the fresh air.

"I see you like the weather," Gale said with a smirk, watching me in the doorway. I walked out with a bundle of clean clothes towards the bathroom to take a shower, punching his arm on the way.

* * *

Slowly, he was able to get me to open up. I was more enthusiastic in walking through the house, and being more hygienic after my first few weeks of not bathing. But, I still didn't talk.

Gale continued to try to make small talk, usually with a silence to reply to him.

In a stronger attempt to get me to talk, he tried to include Mabel in his conversation.

* * *

"No, Mabel, that isn't yours," Greasy Sae lightly rebuked as Mabel took the bright blue yarn from the basket. "Put it back in the basket."

"No, it's okay. Katniss doesn't know how to knit," Gale answered for me. "Do _you_ know how to knit, Mabel?"

She didn't seem to hear him, and instead played with the yarn, weaving it between her fingers. "There's a game me and Lina used to play," she said after a while. "Want me to teach it to you, Katniss?"

After I heard her call my name, I looked up from the piece of loose thread on my sleeve I had been fiddling with. I shook my head.

"Maybe you can teach me," Gale told her.

"It's called Cat's Cradle," Mabel said as she cut off a long piece of yarn and tied the ends together.

"Can you show me?" Gale asked.

"Mabel proceeded in putting her hands in the circle of yarn and weaving her fingers through. She brought her hands farther and farther until the yarn could stretch no more, and the yarn crossed over itself, creating a geometric pattern.

She moved her hands towards Gale's and nudged them, gesturing for him to hold it. He proceeded to follow her orders, transferring the yarn from her tiny hands, almost as delicate as china, to his large and burly hands. She had placed her fingers in between some of the overlapping yarn, brought her hands over and stretched the yarn again until the yarn crossed into different patterns.

"That's pretty cool," Gale told her as he let go of the yarn.

She smiled. "There are lots of different ways you can change the shape."

Mabel continued the pattern: she moved the yarn around and gestured for Gale to hold it. The pattern continued until the shape of the yarn was almost like a simple rectangle.

"I guess the game's over," Gale said, about to let go.

"No wait!" Mabel exclaimed, holding his hands in place. When she determined that his hands would stay in place, she slipped her delicate fingers through the yarn into holes that seemed to never exist. She moved her hands through again and there was another shape. "Even if you think it's the end, there's still a way to continue. You're not supposed to keep passing to your partner, I just did it to show you the ways to move the yarn." She finally brought her hands together and held the small bundle of yarn in her tiny hand.

"Alright, Mabel. We'll have to finish this tomorrow," Greasy Sae said, holding her hand. "Goodbye."

"Bye Gale!" Mabel called. "Bye Katniss!"

"Bye," I whispered quietly right after the door closed.

* * *

Soon, I felt as though my depression would end, that Gale was able to lead me to happiness.

"Even if you think it's the end, there's still a way to continue," whether you like it or not.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

" _I wish I could freeze this moment right here, right now, and live in it forever."_

* * *

The wind was gentle at the time. A pleasant breeze, cooling off the extreme heat of the scalding sun. Everything was predictable, everything was happy. The odds were beginning to be in my favour.

I was beginning to forget the past and look forward to the future. Eventually, I was able to open up. After our schedule on nice days to open windows together, I longed to see the beautiful nature in person, to feel the cool, subtle breeze and the warm sun on my skin.

Gale was there, and he was the reason why I eventually smiled, eventually talked, eventually went outside.

* * *

I never liked to sleep. It's as if every time I closed my eyes – even every time I blinked – a nightmare appeared, like it was permanently burned to the inside of my eyelids. Another way to never let me forget my suffering.

I had always tried to stay awake, only sleeping every few days when exhaustion won over my fears. Even so, I always woke up in the middle of the night after thrashing around.

I didn't even remember falling asleep this night. What I saw just merged from a pen and paper in my hands lit by a soft candlelight to watching Prim burn to death by the flames I had caused. I tried reaching out to her; to pull her out, but it only caused the flames to be stronger, caused her to scream louder. The fire melted her flesh, turning her into something not unlike the remains of Cato in the Cornucopia.

The booming voice of Claudius Templesmith said my name over and over again. The mocking noise wracked my brain as it bounced all around my head. The voice became more frantic, and less like the voice of the famous announcer of the Hunger Games. It was the voice of someone I knew; yet it still sounded so vague that I couldn't recognize it.

I finally opened my eyes, and there he was, the source of the voice, holding my hand. His concerned grey eyes were illuminated by the soft firelight.

"Gale," I whispered.

His worried expression immediately transformed into a happy one at the sound of my voice. "You spoke," he said incredulously.

"Yeah," I said a bit louder after taking in a shaky breath. "Thank you." My voice cracked.

"I'm sorry, Katniss," he apologized. "I always slept upstairs and couldn't hear your screams until now when I fell asleep in the dining room."

"You were always a heavy sleeper." I chuckled weakly.

"These nightmares have probably been going on for a long time…" he said quietly. "I just wish I could make you forget all those terrible times. I will never forgive the Capitol for this." Gale's thoughts seemed to drift off into space when he suddenly started staring at the wall.

I sat up on the couch I was sleeping on – miraculously, I hadn't fallen off this time – and felt a crumpled paper under my backside. I pulled it out carefully and saw that it was the weekly letter I was writing to my mother before I fell asleep.

Gale suddenly spoke, seemingly snapped out of his thoughts. "I guess you won't have to write anymore. You can call your mother now."

I nodded.

After a few minutes of silence with Gale and I staring into each other's eyes, he spoke up. "So, you finally talked."

"Yeah," I replied, "I didn't feel like holding it in anymore. I feel better now."

Gale smiled. "Now I won't have to keep treating you like a child to get you to talk. It was very tiring."

"I didn't see it as a parenting act," I told him.

"Acting happy and optimistic despite all of the horrible things that happened seems like it," he replied. "You know, I can take you out hunting soon—"

My eyes widened and I shook my head. "No. Seeing everything on the way will be too hard for me." I didn't mention Peeta.

"When you're ready," Gale promised. "I wouldn't drag you out like that. I'm just telling you, hunting is a great way to vent out your anger. It's like the whole forest withdraws all of your past difficulties from your memory."

I nodded, and started talking about helping out Greasy Sae. We continued talking until dawn. It felt like one of those days before my first Games when Gale and I met in the forest, the one place where we were truly happy.

It wasn't long until sunrise.

* * *

With the world seeming happier, my fate seeming brighter, I was taking more steps forward. I eventually warmed up to the others, speaking to them and very rarely smiling. I even went to visit Haymitch once, to give him some of Sae's soup and pour some more ice water on him.

My times with Gale became the highlights of the day instead of Greasy Sae's daily visits. Every time we spoke, it felt like those old days in the forest.

There were still nights when the nightmares invaded my mind again, but Gale was there for me, proving a line to the real world by holding my hand. He warded off a good amount of those traumatic memories, and I was grateful.

The memories of our days in the forest evoked my desire to go outside again, to breathe fresh air that didn't come from an open window, to feel the warm sun on my artificial skin.

Of course, I wasn't ready to go hunting yet, but we had reached a compromise.

* * *

After Gale had walked off to the forest to hunt, I stayed in a rocking chair on my wraparound porch, taking in my surroundings.

The air was getting chilly and the leaves on the few trees began to change colours into red and gold. No leaves were shed to the ground yet because autumn had just started. A few birds flew in the blue-grey sky in a V formation towards the south. V formation. Capitol ships. District 8. Bombed hospital. I closed my eyes and counted to ten, as Dr Aurelius would tell me to do during our weekly calls.

Gale was probably working hard to stock up on game for Greasy Sae's cooking. She only came once every other day for dinner, because she took note of my improved eating habits. He always hunted before she and Mabel would arrive. Recently, at Mabel's request, Sae had begun to arrive earlier so that Mabel and I could talk. We both enjoyed each other's presence. Mabel saw me as an older sister, one to set an example for her. I saw her – as I had once seen Rue – as Prim. When I was with her, it was almost like I was with my real sister. Almost.

I saw them walk into Victor's Village and towards my lawn. Sae climbed up the stairs and walked through the door. I nodded at her curtly and turned my attention to Mabel, who had a certain tomcat in tow.

She waved at me and Buttercup threw me a glare. I waved back and walked to her as she stopped beside the tree on my lawn.

"What are you doing, Mabel?" I asked her.

She held out a handful of red and gold leaves in response. I took them from her hand and held them myself. "I wanted to decorate your house with them. They're pretty." Another thing she had in common with Prim: they both had had an eye for beautiful things.

After she finished picking the leaves off the lowest branch, she skipped to my porch and Buttercup and I followed. She took her normal spot on the other rocking chair and Buttercup hopped into her lap. He purred as she pet his ugly fur. He seemed to think of Mabel as another Prim too.

I held onto the leaves and ran my finger over the veins as Mabel began to speak again. "I think those are my favourite colours – red, orange, and yellow. Especially red." I cringed. Red, the colour of blood. "It's so pretty. Every time I look at those colours, I see fire. Like when the Hob burned down. It was so pretty, I couldn't see why everyone was sad."

There was another silence in which I put the leaves in my lap and stared at the green grass. Alright, maybe Mabel wasn't as much like Prim as I thought,

"Katniss!" Mabel called. I turned to her. She was pouting. "You didn't make the hole in the door yet?"

I gave her an apologetic look that I didn't entirely mean. Buttercup had only been coming to Gale and I's house on some days when he was hungry or cold. He's been coming a lot more often ever since he learned that Mabel was there. She requested that I added a cat door so it would be easier for him to enter, but you know about our relationship.

"I'm sorry," I said, "I keep forgetting. I might be able to do it later today." Or tomorrow. Or never.

Mabel's smile reappeared and she continued to brush through Buttercup's fur with her fingers. Her dull Seam eyes seemed to illuminate. For a second, it was Prim who had the cat in her lap. For some reason, Mabel's presence didn't induce a pang of nostalgia – Mabel _was_ Prim to me. Just like Rue was at my first Games.

We spent another few minutes of happy silence until Mabel said, "Can we go in? It's cold and I wanna decorate."

With the leaves in my hand, I opened the door and let her inside with Buttercup in her arms. Her shirt stuck out of her skirt like a little ducktail.

* * *

Eventually, I was finally able to go hunting again. I had enough of the small amount of nature in the yard of my Capitol-built house. I had enough of talking to Gale like we were in the forest on my Capitol-built couch. I was ready to go to my place of peace, no matter what I would pass on the way. I was no longer scared, as Gale would be with me.

* * *

I had another nightmare. I saw myself in my Victor's Village house, then there was everyone whom I had killed. They merged into mutts not unlike the wolf-like creatures in my first Games – they became those rose-scented lizard-like creatures with the facial features of people like Mayor Undersee and Marvel and one of the patients in the District 8 hospital who held my hand. They barricaded my house from the outside, throwing themselves at the walls. This act caused my house to implode, the walls slowly coming closer and closer, threatening to crush my skull…

I woke up in a cold sweat and once again on the floor beside my couch. With the curtains pulled over the window, making the room seem smaller, I suddenly felt very claustrophobic.

Gale rushed in, and in my state of vulnerability I pleaded for him to let me hunt with him. He was more than happy to oblige. He calmed me down and created a schedule: we would pick some berries and look for spices for Greasy Sae. We would check the snare line and hunt in the time left, just for me to get used to my bow and arrow. Even though Greasy Sae cooked for us only once a week nowadays (even Mabel's visits had been more recurring), Gale still provided for her an abundance of game.

My father's hunting jacket was on the coat rack and I put that on along with my worn hunting boots. Gale passed me my bow and my heart fluttered at the sight of the familiar woodwork in my hands.

He put his hand on my shoulder as a sign of comfort and asked, "You'll be alright?"

I nodded, avoiding eye contact as to not reveal my uncertainty, and opened the door, letting the cool breeze sweep into the house. I followed Gale out the door and closed it behind me. I stared at the ground, taking one tentative step at a time, and it happened. For the first time in many months, I stepped off my Capitol-made lawn.

Gale and I descended from the hill upon which the Victor's Village was made, and we made our way into town. We walked down the ashen trail and as we neared the town bathed in the light of dawn, Gale slipped his hand into mine.

He made a big deal of passing through the main streets as to avoid the houses of old friends, but there was no way of avoiding the town square, where all roads were connected. There was still demolition being done on the remainder of old buildings, while the frames of new buildings were already in place. There was a half-built Justice Building in the place of the old one, and a frame was placed in the spot of the mayor's house. A new mayor would reside in that house, and all I would remember was Mayor Undersee, his love for strawberries; his wife, whose sister had gone and died in the Hunger Games; Madge, the kind and considerate friend who gave me my Mockingjay pin. The builders left the space where the Hob was intact, almost as a memorial.

When I thought we had passed the worst of the lot, we came upon the spot of the Mellark family's bakery. The demolition had been done, and a pit had been dug in the ground. Unintentionally, I tried walking towards it, to stand hand in hand with Prim in front of the beautiful cake displays, but Gale's hand pulled me back to reality.

He pulled me into a less familiar area. We stopped in front of the chain-link fence, or what used to be of it. The chain-linked mesh was no longer there and the metal frame was yet to be removed. Immediately, I recognized this place. It was one of our entrances to the woods, one of our less-used ones. The one which would take us to a long path, but far away from the meadow.

I squeezed Gale's hand in gratitude and we entered the once-forbidden area.

"You haven't spoken this whole morning," Gale remarked. "It wasn't that bad, was it? You don't have to come hunting if you don't want to."

I cleared my throat. "I'm alright."

As we walked, we saw a few mint leaves, so we decided to start gathering. I placed one on my tongue as we started to pick blueberries. After filling a basket, we decided to move onto spices. We picked some rosemary and chive leaves and placed them into the basket as well.

The sun was much brighter and higher in the sky than it was earlier, so I told Gale that we should go back. He insisted on getting me to hunt. "I want to help you get your anger out."

As we neared out usual hunting area, Gale checked and reset the snare lines. Two rabbits and one squirrel. Not bad.

We hid and waited for some game to pass by. A squirrel scampered down a tree and I shot my arrow. Gale was right. With the pull of the string, I felt happier. With the release of my arrow, my bad memories faded temporarily. But, I hadn't had much practice and I shot the middle of its back, not my usual in-the-eye. Either way, game was game, and I retrieved my arrow and put the squirrel in the game bag.

We decided to take a rest and just sit down beside each other and eat some berries. We spent a few minutes trying to toss them into each other's mouths but apparently I hadn't had enough practice for that either. We finally stopped when we saw that we wasted about one fourth of the berries.

After that was just silence wherein we gutted our kills. Not the tense silence when Gale and I had first returned to District Twelve, but a happy one. A calm one. A silence wherein we forgot about our problems, and simply enjoyed each other's presence. Rays of sunlight poked through the forest canopy and landed on the dirt. A few mockingjays were singing a song. I sang that four-note call Rue taught me and soon it was repeated in harmonization. Bugs were buzzing and flying around, though that didn't bother me one bit.

I looked at Gale, who was closing his eyes and taking in the presence of the nature around him. The sunlight shone on his dark hair, and all traces of a scowl on his face were non-existent. He opened his eyes and looked at me, grey eyes filled with sincere happiness.

Subconsciously, we began leaning closer and closer to each other. Gale's hand cupped my jaw, providing such a light touch for a hunter. Our eyelids began to droop and we were within inches of each other. I hadn't realized this until our lips met. His lips were soft. The only way I could describe the kiss was calm, reassuring, most of all just a comfortable sense of happiness.

As we pulled away, Gale whispered, "I love you, Catnip."

My face broke out into the largest and most sincere smile I had in what felt like a lifetime. "I love you too."

* * *

I finally had my happy ending with Gale. I just knew it.

But, unlike a baker, who feeds me bread and regenerates my spirit, he was my hunting partner. The one who killed animals with me, who killed my spirit as well, over time.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

 _"… what I need to survive is not Gale's fire, kindled with rage and hatred. I have plenty of fire myself."_

* * *

A flame always starts with a spark. Now _when_ this spark started, I don't remember. It was so long ago, and I've been so used to the heat of the slowly growing flame it produced. The pit had already been set since we were born, that was for sure. We were subconsciously feeding it with tinder, feeling as though we needed the flame's warmth to motivate us to help our families survive. Certain situations arose, and we just continued throwing kindling into the fire as a habit. After my first Games, we've been throwing branches and branches, creating a bonfire.

What we weren't aware of was that we created it in our own home.

* * *

Gale sighed as he saw that I had finally closed my eyes and laid on the couch. He picked up the blanket that had fallen on the floor and spread it on me. I was listening to him make quiet steps up the stairs when the phone in the kitchen suddenly rang.

I heard Gale swear as her walked as quickly and as quietly as he could to the phone. I strained my ears to hear the conversation.

"Hello?" Gale answered quietly yet grouchily.

"Gale?" A feminine voice rang out from the phone. I was just able to make out what she was saying. "It's me, your mother."

"Mom," Gale replied, losing his chilly tone, "Katniss only just got back to sleep. Why are you calling so early?"

"Sorry about that," I heard, though I had to strain my ears even more as the volume of her voice significantly decreased. "And it's not _that_ early in the morning. It's eight o'clock where you are, if I'm correct."

Gale paused. I opened my eyes the tiniest bit to see that he turned towards the clock where it showed that it was, in fact, eight o'clock. "I must have lost track of time. How are you all?"

"We're doing fine. The food train has been backed up since the last time we called – last week – so we haven't had much food to eat lately. If only you were here to hunt for us again," I heard her say light-heartedly.

Gale went silent for a bit, then he replied rather weakly, "Ha ha, yeah…"

"Tell me how you and Katniss are! We all miss you so much. The kids want to talk to you both…"

I continued listening to their conversation, feeling less troubled when I heard Rory's, Vick's, and Posy's voices, muffled through the telephone. After a while, when it seemed as though Gale and Hazelle were finishing their conversation, the doorbell rang and pounds on the door ensued. Buttercup jumped off the rocking chair and hissed. I took that as my cue to "wake up".

Gale sighed once more and hung up after a quick goodbye. He opened the door and Greasy Sae promptly walked in.

"Mabel's sick today," she told us as she hung up her raincoat. "Absolutely heartbroken when she realized she couldn't visit you today. She says hello."

The rest of the gloomy morning was spent with idle food picking and Sae's fruitless attempts to lighten up the mood. Usually, Gale would join in on trying to uplift our spirits but he was strangely quiet. Eventually, Sae gave up on trying to cheer us up and decided to retreat to the living room to watch TV.

After an hour of hesitation, I decided to ask Gale what was wrong.

"Nothing," he said with a sincere tone. "Don't worry about me."

"When someone says 'nothing', it means something," I told him.

"I can assure you, Katniss," Gale said as he slowly ate his porridge, "this is nothing new. No need to worry about it."

Another silence came upon us. I didn't know what to do. My instinct told me to just get the answer out of him, now. But, another part of my brain told me to leave it, and try to make him feel better. I knew the latter was the better choice, but how was I supposed to do it? He was probably feeling down because of the phone call. He was most probably missing his family. He was probably feeling bad that he wasn't there to protect them, like he did before. But, I wasn't supposed to hear the conversation. I couldn't reveal that I knew what was most probably bothering him. So, I was back at square one.

How could I just promise him that everything will be okay like some ignorant doctor? How could I just tell him white lies when the truth was already so obvious? How could I make him feel better without any of this? I'm not a healer, I'm a hunter. My words weren't used to build and protect, they were used to rally forces and fight. I'm not Peeta.

Oh, Peeta. That was my first thought of him after months and months. Peeta was always good at these things. What would Peeta do? He would tell me that he loves me, no matter what, and I would sit in his embrace knowing that I could talk to him whenever I wanted to and a comfortable silence would surround us. But, I had enough of silence.

Gale stood up, snapping me back into reality. He picked up his now-empty bowl and spoon and walked towards the sink.

"Where are you going?" I asked, unnecessarily panicked.

"Just putting my dish away," he replied.

Put under pressure of having wasted so much time thinking, I tried to pull him back to reassure him again. "Gale, it'll – you don't – I –" I stuttered.

Gale just put on a smile and kissed my forehead. "I think I just need a nap. Okay?"

"Okay," I replied. Gale pulled his arm out of my grasp and walked upstairs, leaving my mind swimming with jumbled thoughts of Peeta and failure.

* * *

The wind was picking up. What I had thought was my eventual life of peace and happiness had slowly turned into one of rage and hatred. The wind was throwing me around, forcing me into places unknown and unwanted. Though it was very strong, it still fed a flame. Not my flame, which was still thriving, but our flame of hatred, causing it to grow larger and larger. It slowly consumed our home, and we finally began to notice. Some of our responding actions hadn't done well to subdue the spreading flame.

* * *

I opened the door to Haymitch's house and I was greeted by the putrid smell of vomit. I gagged as I put Greasy Sae's recently cooked turkey on the dining table.

"Katniss," Haymitch greeted from a chair in his living room.

"Hi," I responded, a little surprised at the sight of him awake for once.

He took a swig from the bottle in his hand and asked, "What day is it today?"

"May 26th," I answered as I took a folded garbage bag from my pocket. Lately I've been picking up after Haymitch every time I visited, but his house never seemed to improve.

"Huh. I haven't visited you in a long time, have I?" he slurred as he shook his hair away from his face.

I kept silent as I picked up numerous broken pieces of glass and shoved them into my bag.

"Don't be so glum. You don't have to clean up for me." He slowly stood up from his chair and set his bottle on the floor. He stumbled as he tried navigating through the piles of clutter on the way to his kitchen. He came back with his own garbage bag and started cleaning with me.

"So, how are you?" he asked light-heartedly.

"Good," I replied stiffly, not making eye contact.

"You don't look very good."

I continued to clean without showing any signs of listening to him.

"Katniss," he continued with a sincere tone in his voice. I finally turned to look at him. "I'm not trying to bother you, but it's been over a year since the war ended and you look as broken as you were then."

"I've been through hell, Haymitch," I snapped at him. "You can't expect me to brush everything off like all it's done was leave me with a couple scratches. Especially when you've been through it, when you've lost people you love too."

"Come on, sweetheart, that's not what I meant," Haymitch said. The word "sweetheart" made my blood boil. "You're a strong girl. I'm not trying to say that you're strong enough to overcome this. No one is. I'm just saying that even though the war left you almost irreparable, you should've picked up the pieces and tried to rearrange them by now."

Still seething, I continued to glare at him.

"Something's just holding you back. Maybe it's the sight of the ashes. Maybe it's that empty house across the street. Maybe it's your boyfriend. This –"

"I'm going to go back now," I said loudly, struggling to keep my voice calm. "Enjoy your turkey." I left the garbage bag on the floor and left before he could say anything else.

I slammed the door and trudged through the street. The sweet, fresh spring air was heavenly and the sunset was breathtaking. However, I could barely appreciate them.

I was shaking with anger at his words. How could he say that Gale was preventing me from healing? How could he say that Gale was making my scars worse instead of letting them heal? And how could he talk about Peeta so calmly?

I reached my front door and took deep breaths to calm down. I slowly un-balled my fists. I couldn't let my anger show. After the twenty-fourth breath, I finally opened the door.

Greasy Sae and Mabel were putting on their shoes in the entrance hall.

"Hello Katniss!" Mabel greeted. "I was scared that we were gonna leave before I could say goodbye." Having put her shoes on, she hugged me and walked outside.

"We'll see you next week, Katniss," Sae said as she followed Mabel. She closed the door behind her.

I took off my shoes and went to the washroom to wash up. The girl in the mirror looked pale and underfed. Her cracked lips, dark under-eyes, and hollow cheeks gave me the impression that this girl was broken beyond repair. And she was.

Out of nowhere, tears started flowing down my sunken cheeks. By bottling up my anger, I let it transform into sorrow. I stood, shaking, at the sink for a long time, not bothering to wipe my tears. I didn't start sobbing, and I was grateful, for Gale was in the house. If he heard me, it would cause a lot of unnecessary worrying and awkward questions.

"Katniss?" he called.

I quickly washed my hands and face and left the washroom. "Gale!" I called back.

"Katniss," he said again as he walked towards me, an anxious expression etched upon his face.

I opened my mouth to ask him what was wrong, but – like so many times before – I hesitated. He took my hand and wordlessly led me to the living room. He set me on my rocking chair and he sat on the couch on the other side of the room. Another silence followed. Oh, how tired I was of those. I tried to talk to escape this uncertain and tense prison, but Gale beat me to it.

"Rory got shot," he announced sombrely.

The emotions swirling in my chest suddenly sunk down to my gut. The once-un-interpretable storm of feelings in my body transformed into something unmistakeable: dread. "What?" I said out of disbelief. "How—"

"An ex-Capitol man," Gale explained, trying to sound emotionless. "His family was one of the families that were forced to move out."

I nodded, hanging onto every word. After the war, the barriers between the districts dissolved. Moving around Panem was encouraged. Some Capitol people took upon this encouragement, and some were forced to move. The ones who were forced to move were those who still held strong bitter feeling toward "the rebels". They were moved in an attempt to keep peace, so as not to start a rebellion of their own in the Capitol.

"His son was causing a lot of trouble," Gale continued, "so he was killed."

Even with the war over, strong prejudices were held against these ex-Capitol citizens. After 74 years of Capitol citizens not only allowing, but enjoying the sentences of twenty-four of their children to their deaths annually at the Hunger Games; after 74 years of Capitol citizens leaving the districts in poverty, it wouldn't have taken much for this Capitol boy to upset the other citizens.

"He became mad at the sight," he continued with a bitter tone. "He grabbed the gun from the person that shot his son and grabbed Rory, who happened to be close by. He threatened to kill Rory as well, and shot. Mom pulled him away, so the bullet didn't reach his chest, but it still hit him in the arm."

I could see the scene in my head. I imagined the man, screaming at the sight of the bullet going through his beloved son's head, grabbing the gun from the stranger's hand and pointing it at the next boy he saw. "If you take my son, I'll take yours," I imagined him shouting as he pulled the trigger, vision blurred with tears and heart aching. Had Prim met her demise with a gun rather than a bomb, I might have done the same.

"How's Rory now?" I asked after Gale concluded.

"He's recovering in a hospital," he responded with that same bitter tone. "He lost a lot of blood, but he's doing okay now."

"Good," I said with a relieved sigh. "That's good. What happened to the man?"

"He was shot as well," Gale said sourly. "For good measure."

A silence, heavy with the tenseness that hung in the air after the delivery of the news, surrounded the house, choking me as though it was a cloud of smoke. Gale's angered expression once again softened into a worried one, eyebrows knitted and eyes glazed. He buried his head in his hands and I brought my legs to my chest.

I rocked back and forth on my rocking chair, mind searching for words of comfort. I rocked back and forth, back and forth. Numerous times, I seemed to have found the right words. I opened my mouth and took a breath. Back, forth, back, forth. However, before I could speak, I hesitated, and shut my mouth. I felt like an Avox, forced into silence. Back, forth, back, forth. I felt like I was getting nowhere, stepping forward yet being pulled back. It felt like a game of sorts. A game of hesitation and guilt. Back, forth, back, forth.

The dread slowly mixed with the other emotions, like an egg being whisked into cake batter. As I thought of what to say, the raging storm of emotions travelled to my head, beating against my skull. I could no longer try being Peeta. Peeta was gentle and kind. I was harsh and rather insensitive.

I thought back to the filming of the propaganda shots. Haymitch told me that I sounded better if I was saying something improvised, not something that took time to think about. I decided to stick to that. I opened my mouth and let the words flow without thinking, without censoring. "You can visit them if you want."

Gale lifted his head from his hands. "What?"

"Go visit Rory," I repeated, voice louder due to confidence in my new strategy. "A visit to your family seems overdue. We can travel between districts now, you know."

Gale lowered his head to his hands again and ignored me. I stopped hugging my legs and stood up to join Gale on the couch. "I think I have enough money left to pay for a train ride," I continued. "You can check on them, look after them, just like before."

He still didn't respond. "I know you're worried about Rory," I said softly after I sat down. "I am, too. But he will make it. I know he can. I'll check the train schedule. We can –"

"Katniss," he interrupted, voice muffled by his hands. I couldn't interpret the emotions flowing behind his words.

"You can call them first if you want," I said, standing up to walk to the phone. He grabbed my arm and stopped me. He wore a composed mask on his face to hide what he was feeling. I tried to look through it. I found something in his eyes. What was it?

"Katniss, forget about it," he said dismissively.

Reluctantly, I sat back down. "How could I? Rory got injured. You need to see him. He needs you."

"Katniss, just drop it, okay?" he insisted. "Don't worry about it. I shouldn't have mentioned it."

The raging storm in my head pressed on and I raised my voice. "What? Why shouldn't you have told me that? It was important! Do you – do you not trust me?"

"Of course I trust you, Katniss, don't be ridiculous." I felt a bit more reassured. Of course he trusted me. How could we go years with me watching his back in the woods without him trusting me? Trust wasn't the problem. What was? My head pounded on and on.

"But… why don't you want to visit your family?" I asked him. That unknown emotion flared in his eyes.

"Katniss, I told you to drop it."

"No," I said firmly. "Don't you care about them? Don't you love them?"

Gale suddenly stood up, eyes wild. "Don't accuse me of that!" Anger. That was the emotion hidden underneath his mask.

I raised my voice as well. "Why are you so intent on not visiting them? Why?" I repeated the question over and over, just as my head pounded repeatedly at my skull, until he shouted a reply.

"You!"

I was taken aback. The storm of emotions spread down to my heart. "What?"

"I'm staying here because of you," he said, much more quietly. It didn't take long for me to realize what he meant. He felt like he had to take care of me.

After a while, I answered him with a calm and steady voice. "I can take care of myself, Gale."

That seemed to be the wrong answer, because Gale raised his voice once more. "Katniss, it's not like that! The last time I had to choose between the people I love was at the reaping. I could've volunteered as well, but I stayed. Prim, your mother, my family – they needed it more. Now, I'm choosing you."

I laughed. A short, humourless chuckle. "Okay," I said mockingly as I stood up as well. However, my voice shook due to the mention of Prim. "Okay. So you're staying in Twelve just because you owe me."

"Katniss." Gale sounded very irritated. "Were you not listening? I'm staying in Twelve because I love you."

"That's not what I heard!" It was my turn to rant. "You're here because you think I'm too weak to live alone. What you said about being relieved to stop treating me like a child is completely irrelevant! That's all you're doing, treating me like a helpless baby. You never stopped. I don't need you to look after me!" The storm spread to my lungs, making it hard for me to breathe.

"Maybe you don't then," Gale spat before retreated upstairs.

I struggled to breathe. I struggled to see straight. I struggled to stop the headache cracking open my skull. I struggled to simmer down the wildfire caused by this argument. I hated Gale. I hated Haymitch. I hated the Capitol. I hated the scrawny cat poking its head around the corner to look at me. I hated the emotions flowing through my veins, caused by this all. I hated it, I hated it, I hated it.

I wanted to vent out my anger. I wanted to let it go by kicking the couch, punching the wall. Before I could do either, tears started flowing down my cheeks again. What a mess I was.

I curled up on my couch and let the tears flow, not bothering to stifle my sobs. I sounded weak. I sounded like a snivelling fool. It made my arguments sound completely irrelevant. I didn't sound strong. But I didn't care. I wanted to let it all out. I glanced toward the staircase and I sobbed harder. The end of a strong bond. There wouldn't be so strong of a feeling of security around me and Gale. No trust. Soon, we would be in each other's presence, simply tolerating each other. And it was all my fault.

It was my fault for choosing not to censor my words. My fault for invading his privacy. I thought of what Haymitch said, so long ago: " _This is why no one lets you make the plans._ " He was right in saying that. He was right in saying that Gale was stopping me from healing. Haymitch was right.

I could try to fix it. Make it right again. Gale seemed to be the last stitch keeping me from ripping apart and shattering into pieces. But how could I have made it right? I didn't even know what "right" was anymore.

Overcome with exhaustion, I closed my eyes and succumbed to the nightmares.

* * *

Our fire of hatred cooled down to a simmer. Or rather, having burned down our house, it no longer had anything to feed on; it was no longer fuelled. The destruction was done. We couldn't rebuild our home from the pile of ashes. All we could do was avoid feeding the flames from now on, and try to protect ourselves as much as possible as we can from the unrelenting, cold, bitter wind.

I waited for everything to go back to normal, for everything to stop being so tense and for Gale and I to resume talking to each other, but for some reason, it didn't. The air of tenseness that hung in the air after an argument never left. So many times before, we argued even with the slightest provocation, fuelled by our confusing storms of emotions. Gale's hostility towards the Capitol and the heartless decisions that resulted. My tendency to become very easily upset at his decisions and uselessness when it came to empathy towards the "right" people. Our bond was weakening even then. Perhaps, because of this particular argument, Gale and I had reached the same subconscious realization: we can't heal each other.

Very slowly, we spread apart. At first, we made flimsy attempts to make things right, but to no avail, because we wouldn't dare crossing the line ever again to fix something that couldn't be fixed. Eventually, Gale no longer tried to start conversations to clear our heads of whatever depressing thoughts we had due to the war. I no longer tried to break the silence caused by that. Whenever Mabel and I were talking and it seemed like I had enough company, Gale decided to leave the room. I found myself making excuses not to join Gale on hunting trips. It became worse and worse as the days went by.

After a few months had passed, I retreated back to my silence while Gale stayed with me. To avoid each other as much as we could, I spent hours cleaning Haymitch's house, and he hunted. However, we were forced together during meals – which Gale cooked and made sure I ate every bite of in the place of Greasy Sae – and at night – during which Gale made sure I got to sleep before sleeping himself. He still took care of me, but he no longer did it out of love. He owed me.

On the rare occasion when I hunted with him, in order to let out my swirling emotions before they broke me, Gale seemed very different than he did a few years ago. He very rarely set snares, shooting the animals himself to vent his anger. The flames of anger in his eyes flared during that time, and they never stopped burning.

It seemed as though he was giving up on me, returning home with extra money jingling in his pocket, which he had no doubt obtained from selling game to the butcher. He seemed to be saving up for the train ride to his family. To District 2, where there weren't any girls broken beyond repair he had to care for.

When he left, it didn't come as much of a shock. One day, I woke up from a nightmare and Gale wasn't at the stove. He left me a note with a goodbye that was as warm as he could manage. He thanked me for helping to keep his family alive a few years ago. Those days seemed so far away, when we were happy in each other's presence in the forest, telling each other everything that came to mind without a fight breaking out.

The note marked the end of a friendship, perhaps more than that. That simple piece of paper left me another scar to join the others, even when I thought I couldn't get more. It was another reminder of pain, of another battle lost, another casualty.

I was scarred. Yet, these scars never seem to fade.


	5. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

" _What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again. And only Peeta can give me that."_

* * *

My name is Katniss Everdeen. I'm almost 20 years old. I live in District 12. I survived the Games twice. Prim is dead. Peeta is dead. Gale left. My mother lives in Dictrict 4, carrying on with her happy little life. Just like everyone else. But not me.

I think about these things as I rock on my rocking chair, staring into the fire. I dig my nails into my palms to distract myself from my heartache. These days, the hole burning in my heart never stops spreading, and I spend hours concentrating on making it stop.

I try to put myself together. I hunt. I look for primroses. I care for Buttercup. I visit my mother. I attempt baking. I spend nights lying awake, constantly rubbing Peeta's pearl against my lips. It all just seems to leave me with more burns.

Sae and Mabel no longer visit. I pushed them away, knowing that if I kept them close they would be sucked into the dark painful void with me. I would put them in danger, just as I had done with everyone else. Sae has seen the pain in my eyes and understood, leaving boxes of food on my doorstep every morning.

I try starving myself, but it adds more emptiness. I try losing myself in drugs, but when I come back down, I'm hit with an even stronger sadness.

I no longer have a purpose. No family to feed. No Prim to protect. No Peeta to hold me together. I try convincing myself that I'm holding on for my mother, though I know that she's fine without me. Even Plutarch Heavensbee stopped calling, knowing that I'd never pick up.

It's all just a cycle of worthlessness and pain. I wonder: if Peeta were alive, would I still feel the same?

I eventually lift myself up from my chair. I put my hand in my pocket and run my fingers over my mockingjay pin. How odd that such a small object would have so much power. I almost smirk at the thought.

The lyrics of "The Hanging Tree" run through my head. A song of empowerment during the rebellion, but of devastation to myself. I remember how during one of the propos, Plutarch changed "necklace of rope" to "necklace of hope".

As I make my final trek to the meadow, I start to think that maybe the meaning is the same.

 **End**


End file.
